


Bent and Broken

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Broken Bones, Day 12, Dean Winchester Whump, Gen, I think I've broken something, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Winchester Can Suck My Dick, POV Dean Winchester, Season/Series 02, Whump, Whumptober 2020, broken down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Dean breaks his arm on a hunt.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947223
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Bent and Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2020
> 
> No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING
> 
> Broken Down | Broken Bones
> 
> Meant to post this yesterday, y'all, but I'm still pretty sick. Sorry about that.

“Son of a bitch!”

The ghost they were fighting had just taken Dean’s arm in its suddenly, stupidly corporeal hands and snapped it like it was breaking a twig for firewood.

Dean screamed, and he collapsed to his knees.

“Dean!”

“Sam!”

The ghost was pressing up against him, and then he felt fingers _in him_. God, the bitch was going to take his heart.

A bar of iron passed over her to Dean, and he caught it, even while he was blinded by pain.

He swung it at her, yelling, “Light the bitch up!”

“On it!”

She came back only once more before burning up, and she’d used that time to strangle Dean, nails digging into his jaw.

Sam rushed over to him just in time. Dean fell forward, and would’ve collapsed on the floor if not for his brother.

Stupid. He was stupid. If Dad were there he would’ve told him to suck it up, that if he was dumb enough to get hurt in the first place, then he’d have to deal with it.

Dad would’ve made Sam set, splint, and wrap it.

Dad would’ve made Dean go without pain medicine because it wasn’t his fault Dean’s sorry ass got handed to him.

Dad would’ve given Dean a drink — and maybe another, and another — as his only form of comfort.

Sam tried to help Dean up, but Dean pushed him away. Blood trickled down his neck, and down his torso from the holes in his shirt.

“Stop it, Sammy. I’m fine.”

“Dean, she broke your arm. Don’t be an idiot!”

Ah, yep, the _don’t be an idiot_ from his college-nerd little brother. Just what Dean needed. A reminder that he didn’t have a working brain in between his ears. All that brain knew how to do was hurt, hurt, _hurt_.

Dean managed to get to his feet, and Sam stayed close by him. Hugging his arm to himself, Dean surveyed the mess their fight had made, and then turned to Sam. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, she sure as hell didn’t wanna go.”

“Your—”

“My arm! I know. It’s a walk in fucking Candy Land.” He started leaving the house. “Now come on. Don’t want the cops showing up while we’re still here.”

Dean made it all the way to the driver’s side door of the Impala before he stopped, realizing something. Luckily, Sammy had just caught up to him.

He had to ask him to do this thing, but no, he couldn’t. Could he? Then he’d be a baby, _and_ an idiot.

Thankfully Sam saved him from it, by nudging close to Dean to get him out of the way. He held his hand out for the keys to Baby.

“I’ll drive.”

Sam brought Dean to Bobby’s, which made a lot of sense since it was their homebase after Dad— that son of a bitch... After, well… Yeah.

Dean bitched and moaned for a good ten miles. Then his arm started swelling up like an overinflated balloon animal that sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to get turned into anything. Except maybe the abstract art for _pain_. But that wasn’t an animal.

Dean groaned with each bump of the road, and the adrenaline wore off, leaving him sick, and clammy.

_Fucking fantastic._

So yeah, he bitched and moaned about going to Bobby’s in the first place, but by the time they got there, Dean was too happy to be led into his surrogate father’s living room.

Dean laid down on the couch without much thought as Sam told Bobby what had happened. He closed his eyes, just wishing for the pain to stop, to go away. Maybe if he cut off his arm that would end it.

_Dumbass._

In a matter of minutes, Bobby was making Dean sit up, and Sam stripped him out of his jacket and shirt. Dean breathed quick and heavy the whole time, and screamed through gritted teeth when the sleeve of his jacket, and then his shirt, was forced down his arm. A sob might’ve left him.

Bobby gave Dean a reassuring smack on the knee, and he focused on that: Bobby was here.

Bobby wouldn’t make Sam take care of this alone.

Bobby wouldn’t leave Dean without pain medicine.

Bobby wouldn’t tell Dean he was an idiot.

Still didn’t make it true that he wasn’t.

But this was what he needed: a dad. A real dad. Not that fucked up son of a bitch John fucking Winchester. All he’d done for Sam and Dean was try to raise them right and fail just as hard as he’d tried.

Dean loved the bastard. He loved him to death. To Heaven, and Hell, and back.

Yet, even the memory of his voice left him hurting inside.

“Okay, Sam. Better hold him.”

Dean tried to get up now, realizing what was happening. Sam pushed him back down.

“God, I’m f—”

Hands had grasped Dean’s arm, and there was a snap reverberating through his body from the bones being set. Dean retched from the pain, leaning over the arm of the couch, and Sam pat him on the back.

While Bobby worked on Dean’s arm, Sam got Dean a beer. Thank fucking god.

“Sorry this happened to you, son,” Bobby said, wrapping Dean’s arm as best he could with ace bandages. It was a pathetic way to do medical care, but it was the best they had. In the morning Sammy was probably going to make Dean get his ass to a hospital.

“Yeah, well, whatever.”

“It’s just part of the job,” Bobby went on.

Dean commented, “Crappy job.”

“Can’t be all that crappy.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

Bobby clipped off the end of the ace bandage (welcome to Singer County Hospital, if you need stitches, they come in the flavor Minty Fresh), and met his gaze. And thank god Dean’s arm was already splinted, because the look on Bobby’s face wasn’t something he was eager to throw up on.

It was dark in Bobby’s living room, the sounds of night loud around them. Sam stood nearby, arms crossed, looking a little worse for wear, maybe because of seeing his brother hurt. And Bobby still knelt before Dean. He looked at both of them now, a real, genuine emotion on his face. Dean wanted to beg, _No chick flick moments,_ but he couldn’t do that. Not to Bobby.

“It led me to you idjits.”

That was when Dean had to hide his tears.

Bobby wasn’t Dad. He was better than Dad, because only Bobby would help him when he was hurt, and only Bobby would let him know that he was wanted.

Dean’s arm didn’t hurt so much anymore. Nothing in his previous world compared to the overwhelming emotion of realizing his dad was right here.


End file.
